“Have you ever acted in front of the cameras before?” Crowe asked, lounging back in his chair, looking at the couple in scary make-up before him. They had shown up on set just as he had come up short a few actors.
“No, but how bloody hard can it be?” Spike pulled Dru to him.
Crowe scratched his balding head. “Well, your make-up is great, though we usually don’t want the girls to look scary, just the guys. Men pay to see girls doing vampires, werewolves and gargoyles.” He got up and went over to Dru, cupping her chin, turning her face one way then the other. He smiled. “Then again a demon chick with a normal guy and slaappillen melatonine … whatever you’re supposed to be, could be hot. My writers could probably come up with some lines for you and this delicate piece of tail.” He smoothed Dru’s hair, missing her predatory smile. “After all, I’m down a few actors tonight. They’re supposed to call when they can’t make it but actors don’t have brains enough to tie their shoes.”
“Maybe something disagreed with them,” Dru said with a giggle. Spike shot her an amused look. They had guzzled down a couple of amateur porn stars after hearing about the shoot that was to be some kind of gothic horror flick.
“So go ahead and drop your pants, England,” Crowe said, gesturing at Spike.
Spike paused in raising a lighter to his cigarette.
“The girl obviously has what it takes. I need to see your endowments, too. I can’t have any one-inch wonders in front of the cameras.” Crowe flicked a hand at Spike’s crotch. “And no smoking.”
“Oh, that’s bloody insulting that is.” Spike obliged about the cigarette. Dru started giggling. “It’s not funny, Dru.”
“I was just imagining Daddy’s reaction to this.” She pressed the back of her pale hand to her lips giggling harder, a little girl gesture marred by fangs.
He curled a lip, his eyes glinting amber. “That’s not helping, Drusilla. It’s not like I’m going to turn up wanting, just never had a gent wanting to know how long my todger is before.” Spike undid the zip of his pants and lowered them. He jammed his hands into his hips, cocking his head to one side with a salacious smirk on his face.
Crowe made a face.
“They don’t usually like uncut men,” he said, and Spike rolled his eyes. “But the ring in the foreskin gets you extra points so welcome to Fly By Night predications. I’ll get your paperwork ready. You two go find Olivia. She’ll help you with your make-up. Thataway.” Crowe pointed.
Spike jerked his pants back up, feeling somehow insulted, like this fat bastard thought he wasn’t quite good enough for his porno but would just have to make due. He put his hand in Dru’s and led her to the tatty closet that was passing as a make-up room. Olivia was finishing putting the liquid latex touches on what Spike assumed was a gargoyle.
“That’s fantastic make-up. Did you do it yourselves?” She pointed to the chair for one of them to sit.
“It’s a gift from Daddy,”
“I love it but you’re way too pale. I can fix that.” Olivia bent down to pick up a jar of pancake and caught their reflection in the mirror only to see there was no reflection. “What the…”
Spike was on her before Olivia could scream.
Dru joined him.
After a hearty meal, they stuffed the body up under the make-up table before wandering back out to where Crowe was yelling about closing the set so perverts couldn’t just walk in for a freebie. Spike grinned hearing the doors lock. He took a look around the set, which was a bed with garish red sheets and bedposts of skulls.
Cobweb strung about every, some floor candelabras and a handful of red veils draped around for no apparent reason over an upright coffin made up the rest of the set. Gargoyle boy was in a niche, checking out if he had room to crouch and look gargoyle-like. Another man was lounging in a nearby chair in an outfit that said he had to be the human lover for the set. Spike wouldn’t be caught dead in the faggy pirate outfit but Mr Corn-Fed Iowa boy seemed content.
“Damn Olivia, you two are still on the pale side,” Crowe said critically.
“We’ll see if it works.
That way for costumes.” He pointed again.
Spike took another glance, one man on camera, another readying the boom mike and no doubt someone in a lighting booth somewhere. He and Dru probably couldn’t kill them all but then again they probably wouldn’t have to.
The costume girl was an easy kill. It was much harder to force Dru to pick a gown. Spike eventually selected her a deep red velvet gown and she put it on spinning round watching the skirt flare. Hell, she’s beautiful, he thought, pulling on black trousers and a red poet’s shirt, as much as he didn’t want to but there was nothing that looked less poof-like to him.
Crowe nodded appreciatively, handing them some paperwork when they came back out to the set. “Sign the top three pages and memorize the lines on the last one.”
Spike and Dru scrawled their names, and glanced at the paper. Crowe ordered Drusilla up on the bed.
“We’re going to start with Jack Hammer and… what’s your name, hon?” Crowe asked.
Crowe made a face. “Okay that name won’t work. We’ll call you Brandi Swallows in the credits, how’s that?”
Drusilla lifted her chin, smiling at the Corn-Fed Jack Hammer. “Blood is better than brandy.”
Crowe beamed. “That’s even more perfect for this flick. Okay then it goes Jack Hammer and Blood Swallows in the first scene. That wakes up Tommy Pounder out of his stone slumber and the gargoyle gets into the action. And you…”
“Perfect. Couldn’t come up with a better name. Spike’s in the coffin. Once the action gets started you pop out of the coffin. You mean to kill the Hammer but decide just to join in the action. Got it?”
“I think I can manage,” Spike said wryly. He didn’t like getting into the coffin, leaving Dru with two horny idiots but reminded himself, this had been his idea but he never thought she’d agree to it as a gift to him.
Spike saw there were peepholes in the coffin so he could see the action and figure out when to join in. Corn-Fed came up to the bed where Dru was pretending to be asleep. He took his pants off immediately, stroking himself. Spike growled watching Corn-Fed kissing Dru’s shoulders, taking down her bodice while his long, slender cock pressed against her.
Dru wrapped her arms around him and Spike saw she was wasting no time sinking her fangs into Corn-Fed’s muscular neck. Crowe was yelping at them to move a little more and for Dru to get a lot more naked. Corn-Fed came all over Dru’s dress as he died and Crowe howled about the waste of a money shot.
He cued the gargoyle, mumbling about how they should just keep going and re-shoot the beginning later when Corn-Fed could get it up again and quit being so fast on the trigger. Spike watched Pounder gambol over to the bed, his ludicrous latex wings flapping, his shaven genitals covered in grey liquid latex. Dru grabbed them, rolling them back and forth in her hands as if she was fascinated with the idea.
Spike would hate to disappoint her but there was no bloody way he was ever shaving the boys and dipping them in latex, not even for her.
He left the coffin, not really caring if it was his time. Spike went up behind the gargoyle, grabbing him.
It’s not that kind of shoot. You’re supposed to do the girl,” Crowe bellowed.
Spike just grinned at him full fanged and bent Pounder back with a sudden jerk, breaking his spine in several places. He tossed him aside as Dru flew off the bed and brought Crowe down like the fat pig he was. Spike killed the camera man but the lighting and sound guys escaped. He shrugged it off as he put a hand out to Dru. She took it, standing up and walking over Crowe’s body.
Dru slit open the flesh between them with a lacquered nail, twisting so his mouth could reach the flow of blood without her having to lose him inside of her.
Spike rolled her, pulling free, his cock glistening with her dew. He got off the bed turned the camera a bit then lifted her up and shoved her against the upright coffin. Dru folded her legs around his back as he pounded her against the coffin. The lid gave way as his orgasm nearly took the feet out from under him.
Dru crawled out from under him and turned the camera back to the bed. She knelt on it.
“Let’s play another game, my beautiful Spike.”
Grinning ,he joined her. Afterwards, thoroughly spent, Spike lounged on the garish sheets while Dru fetched his cigarettes. He lit up while she carved something into his chest with her sharp nails.
Sitting up, he tried to read the bleeding words upside down. “We’re dead?” He took a drag on his cigarette pulling her to him. She sucked her bloody finger. “Maybe, but it won’t stop us from having fun. Smile for the camera, luv.”
Dru waved at the video recorder. Spike got up and fetched their original clothing. He turned off the camera and took the video recording. He pulled Dru to him.
“Thanks for agreeing to do this, pet.”
“It was fun,” Dru said as Spike led her out into the city streets. “I hope my boy had a good birthday.”
He kissed her hard. “The best. Come on, luv. There’s a lot of night left and my birthday’s not over yet. I bet there’s plenty of trouble we can still get into.”
“Spike, will you get all painted up like the pretty gargoyle?” Dru ran her tongue over his cheek.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Spike said, his brain saying no and his heart saying anything Dru wanted but if he did shave his balls and paint himself in latex it would surely never make tape.
She kissed him again. “Happy birthday, Spike.”